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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676001">Someone has to</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Story781/pseuds/Story781'>Story781</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, OOC, One Shot, Post-Dragon Age II, like really briefly for no reason, mentions of justice, probably, this is. incoherent and chaotic, warden commander literally tucks anders in because i said so</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:16:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>977</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Story781/pseuds/Story781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders gets hurt in a fight but thankfully an old friend is there to help.</p>
<p>Post DA2 but possibly before Inquisition. Doesn't matter all that much.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Anders/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Anders/Warden (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Someone has to</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>it is midnight and a half and this is my incoherent self-indulgence because I love an apostate, hello</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anders hissed quietly as the alcohol-soaked cloth tapped against the deep cut on his brow, the pain burning and biting.</p>
<p>He could have taken care of his wounds himself. He probably would have, had it been for warden Cousland's insistence on doing it instead. She claimed he was pushing himself too hard, that the fight tired him out enough, and casting more spells would only make things worse.</p>
<p>She almost dragged him to her home by The Warden's Inn (Maker, she was never creative with names, but this had to have been a new low) and laid him down in her bed, multiple pillows supporting his back, soft covers draped over his chilled body. Because of course, the fight was not the only thing that took its toll on him. He wasn't that badly injured, nothing a potion and a good rest wouldn't fix, which was why she was qualified enough to help. After all, she was no healer. No mage, he thought for a second.</p>
<p>Anders watched as she continued to clean his wounds, her touches harsh and stern, her brows pulled together in an expression of anger, maybe annoyance. Every time he tried to protest, or get up and leave, she pushed him back down, barking threats and insults through clenched teeth. But she still dressed his wounds carefully, making sure every single one of them was properly cleaned, and that the ones that demanded it were smeared with the healing ointment.</p>
<p>Once she was done, she reached for a red bottle on her dresser and put it up to his lips.</p>
<p>"Drink this. And rest, Anders. I'll let you go tomorrow if you're so eager to leave," she ordered, her voice surprisingly flat. He wasn't eager to leave. He was eager to stop being a danger to his host and the people in the inn next door. If he was found here... the place would most likely be burnt down, and everyone inside with it.</p>
<p>He obeyed silently, drinking the bitter, red liquid, the taste sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine, making him shake his head and furrow his brows in disgust. She smiled, ever so slightly.</p>
<p>"Come on now. You've drunk worse," she encouraged, her hand gently laying on top of his head.<br/>She was softer now. Of course she was, she could never stay angry at him for long. Not for these types of things, anyway. Her other hand, the one that was not caressing his head, held his palm, squeezed it tightly. Her eyes were a lot more gentle, the smile tugging at her lips so sweet. She was kneeling next to the bed, dress wrinkled, dirty with dust, mud, water and blood, and he couldn't help but wonder.</p>
<p>"Why do you care about me at all?" he asked when he felt she was about to get up and leave.</p>
<p>He's done unforgivable things. Living on the run, alone, portrayed as an unstable maniac, was a fate he accepted, one he thought he deserved, somewhere deep in his mind. And every time they met, every time she had even a vague idea of where he was, she'd try to help, one way or another. Sometimes she sent someone with supplies, always a different person, although they all looked at him with the same awe in their eyes. He never knew why. He was so used to the "possessed monster" narration, coming even from fellow mages.</p>
<p>Cousland froze. She stared up at him with eyes slightly widened, eyebrows raised. Shaking herself out of the stunned state, she sighed and took his hand into both of hers, pulling it closer to her face. Her eyes were warm, gentle, and such an unexplainable sadness lingered behind them.</p>
<p>"Someone has to," she whispered, before pressing a kiss to his bruised knuckles and rising to press another one against his forehead, right above the cut. "And Maker knows it won't be you."</p>
<p>She tucked him in, actually tucked him in, pushing him gently to lay down, covering him up to his chin with the blankets, and brushing some of his loose hair out of his face.</p>
<p>"Good night, Anders."</p>
<p>Watching her leave, he wanted to call out and ask her to stay. Just a little longer. He knew he didn't deserve to be held, and kissed, and cared for like this, but he'd rather be deprived of those things completely than experience them so scarcely. The latter always made it harder to suppress the wanting. He still had memories of how she felt in his arms years ago, and he wanted to feel her again. Warm and soft, she loved laying her head next to his shoulder and keeping her hand on his chest when she slept. It was a way to keep warm, cuddling like this. She wasn't the only one at Vigil's he held in his arms through many nights. Maybe one of the few he didn't sleep with. Not that he wasn't close to.</p>
<p>Justice grew oddly uncomfortable at both the memories and the mere thought of the commander in a sexual context. They were guests in her home, and she was already doing more than he could ask for. To think of her in such a way felt wrong. Like they were demanding more than they deserved.</p>
<p>With a sigh, or maybe a grunt of discomfort, Anders blew out the candle at the bedside table before turning onto his side and curling up under the covers. Maybe he'll wake up to find the warden commander holding him in her arms. Or maybe he'll wake up, go to the kitchen and find her there, at the table. Maybe she'll reach up to him and place a gentle kiss on his face somewhere. Maybe.</p>
<p>But, for the moment, wrapped in the fresh sheets, laying on the soft mattress, he just had to sleep.</p>
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